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Thursday, November 24, 2016

A Little Public Naughtiness - Part Two

Peter choked on his bite. It was almost funny. Kat smiled. “Would you like to see?” she purred at him, letting her foot slide up his wet leg.Heat hazed through his eyes as his gaze dropped to her breasts and further down beneath the hard surface of the table, before he coughed and shook his head. “Maybe we should talk about that later.”“You don’t want to talk about it now?” She let her foot slide past his knee to stroke just the inside of his thighs suggestively. “You don’t find it interesting?”Peter coughed again before reaching down under the table to grab her stockinged foot. “Kat,” he hissed, glaring warningly at her, “behave.”She just smiled wider, sliding further down in the seat as her foot pushed further up his thigh. “Or what?”Peter tightened his thighs, capturing her foot before she could touch—could stroke and tease—his cock. “Kat,” he scolded, his eyes hot and warning.She pointed her foot, flexing her toe to just brush against hard, ready flesh. “What are you going to do, Peter?” Her voice was heavy with innuendo.Peter stood, rocking the table, his face distressed and his hands clutching the cloth napkin over his lap. “Excuse me.”Kat frowned and watched him walk away from her. She looked down at their half-eaten meal. At their half-empty glasses. At her new dress. At the remains of their special night.She straightened in her chair. Smoothed the unwrinkled fabric of her dress over her lap and picked her napkin up off the floor, laying it demurely on her lap. With shaky hands, she lifted her fork and knife.Her hands stayed poised—frozen—over her food as she tried not to cry. Tried not to feel failed. Disappointed. Broken.The rest of the dinner passed by in silence. Peter wouldn’t even look at her. Wouldn’t talk to her. Not during the ride home. Not as they entered the house.He disappeared into his office, climbing the stairs and locking the door.Kat made her way to their bedroom, feeling numb. Deadened. She looked around the room, filled with so many memories. She stared at their bed, all soft, forest green bedding and hard, shined oak. Strong and unyielding yet comforting. Home. A symbol of all they had together. What they’d made together.Turning away, Kat walked to the full-length mirror and stared at herself. Closing her eyes, she turned her head and reached for the dress’s zipper. She let the garment fall weightlessly to the ground, pooling around her feet. She unpinned her hair, feeling it too fall inconsequential around her shoulders and down her back.She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. Her skin was a sweet saison, bronzed from all the time she spent typing in the sun. Her black hair flowed in a long, soft stream, begging for touch. Her eyes blinked big and gibbous, an innocent wonder still shining in them after all these years. Her body was thin, not rounded—not exactly—but still feminine and soft.The forest green lingerie sculpted to her form, lifting and cupping her to accentuate her every curve and dip. The tiny bikini panties rode high on her hips, the fabric soft as it drifted down between her legs. The padded cups of the matching demi-bra cleaved to her breasts, loving them adoringly.She pouted, her full lips wavering. What was wrong with her?“You’re beautiful.”Kat turned. She saw Peter standing in the doorway, changed out of his wet clothes and into a T-shirt and cargoes. He looked like her Peter. “Thank you.”He stepped in the room, walking over to her to wrap her in his arms. “I’m sorry tonight didn’t go the way you planned.”She turned in his arms and looked at him. Studied him for a long, tense moment. She loved him. More than she, even as a writer, knew how to say. He was everything she never knew she wanted, not until he was in front of her. A sexy Clark Kent with a quick mind, a tender heart, and a wickedly wild side. He was her fantasy and he was her home. He was the one person in this world she trusted enough to give every part of herself to. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t give or do for him.And he loved her too.She knew that. She did.But sometimes—lately—she wondered. Frowning, she looked into his warm, kind, hazel eyes.“Do you want me anymore?”He gave a short laugh.“It’s not funny.” She shut her eyes on a pouting frown.“It is a little,” he told her, touching her frown with his finger. “I love you, Kat,” he told her, his hand sifting sweetly through her hair. “You know I do.”“That’s not what I asked.” She turned her head away from him. He shot her a confused look. She was his wife; of course, he loved her. “I know that you love me. I asked if you want me.”She was standing in front of him in their bedroom in lingerie and all he could think to touch was her hair. All that effort and it was as if none of it mattered. None of it made an impact. Didn’t even leave so much as an impression.In a minute, they would crawl into that bed together, cuddle, and fall asleep. Again. As if she were wearing flannel or cotton instead of lace and skin.And she would feel—would know she was—loved. Loved, yes, but still longing. Her lower lip quivered as tears pierced the back of her eyes. She blinked them back. “Isn’t there something about me—” Her breath hitched before she shook her head. “Isn’t there any part of you that,” she whispered and shrugged her shoulder, “desires—that wants or lusts or longs for—any part of me anymore?”He sighed, the sound an exasperated groan, as his head fell back on a frustrated roll. He growled and pulled her closer to him until their hips pressed together. She felt his hard length grind against her, making her thrill. “Still a ridiculous question.”She closed her eyes, her face settling into a satisfied smile. For just a moment. She’d let herself be happy for just a moment.Then she looked at him again. She still didn’t understand. If he wanted her, why would he stay away? Why would he act as though he didn’t? She didn’t understand and she really needed to. Before she could lose her nerve, she said in a hurried rush, “We never have sex anymore.”Peter balked. “We have sex.”“Not often,” she insisted. “Not for newlyweds.” They were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together; how could their sex lives, that had been so incendiary at the start, die after four years? She shook her head. “Not for us. And the sex we do have...” She trailed off.“What?” Defensively, he crossed his arms over his chest and stepped away from her. “What?”She paused, wrapping herself up in her arms, and backed up onto the bed. She sat down, her hand gripping the hardwood bedpost, anchoring her as the mattress gave under her weight. “It’s different now,” she settled on. “It’s not like it was before.”Peter grunted and removed his glasses to wipe a frustrated hand over his face. “You’re my wife now,” he said, putting on his glasses again to look at her. “I love you.” He went to her. Dropping to his knees onto the rug’s plush, emerald wool, he looked like a supplicant before her at the altar of their bed. Kat’s breath hitched as he clutched her knees and sidled between her legs. “I love you, Kat, more than I’ve loved anyone in my life. I love you more now than when we first met—more than I did when we got married. When I look at you now, I see children, a future, a home. I see us growing old together. I see forever.”Peter reached up to cup her face in his hands. “You’re right,” he told her. “I don’t want to just have sex with you anymore.” He stroked her cheek, his palm soothing her skin. “I want to make love with you, Kat. I want to love my wife.”A tear slipped down her cheek before he stood up, kissing it away. He leaned over her, pressing her into the rich green. His hands touched her everywhere, her face, her shoulders, the delicate dip of her clavicles. His tongue followed, trailing wet, teasing kisses along the hills of her breasts, the sensitive skin of her nipples, and down the quivering flesh of her belly. He clutched her knees in the crooks of his elbows, parting her legs. He pressed close, his nose nuzzling her wet, silky center.Kat moaned as he licked her labia, his tongue torturing her with its slow, lazy perusal of her pussy. She squirmed, trying to worm her warm, wet way into his touch.But he wouldn’t be rushed. No, he gripped her harder, clinging tight to her thighs as an excited current ran through her.She groaned and her hands fisted in the comforter while his tongue and fingers parted her to touch her clit. He flicked the fleshy nub hard, making her body jerk and her heart pounded. “Peter, please.”He licked her again. And again. Harder this time. Her thighs clenched around him and her hips thrust up to meet his mouth. “Please, Peter, please.”“What do you want, Kat?” His breath was warm against her.“You,” she said. “I want you,”“You have me.” His fingers plunged inside her. “You’ll always have me.” He fucked her with his fingers as he sucked and licked at her clit. “What do you really want?”“I want to come.” She shook, feeling her orgasm almost within her reach. “Oh God.” She groaned and ground herself into him. “Please, I want to come.”“All you have to do is ask,” he told her before he quickened, deepened, his movements, his fingers fucking her hard now. So good. It was just too good. “All you ever have to do is ask, Kat. Don’t you know that I’d do anything for you? Anything to make you happy?”She barely heard his words, but she could feel the heat, the tenderness, the love in his words and it warmed her already heated body as his touch—his lovemaking—pushed her over the edge. She came, her body shuddering as she stiffened.She felt him climb up on the bed next to her and wrap her in his arms. She panted, waves of pleasure still washing over her. He stroked her, her hair, her cheek, her neck and shoulders, his hands still damp with her juices. “I love you, Kat,” he told her, murmuring against her open, gasping mouth. He kissed her hard and long, his tongue tasting her, letting her taste herself. Taste them together. “I’ll always love you and I’ll never not want you.”

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